Quotes About Ephemeral

impermanence of things and how nothing stayed the same no matter how much you wanted it to.

You don't even live once.

You came and you will be gone. You don't even have to do something for it, it happens by itself. You came by itself and you will be gone by itself. So, what do you worry about?

elephant vanish from the

wouldn't stay long. She told

Moments left, Teddy thought. A handful of heartbeats. That was what life was. A heartbeat followed by a heartbeat. A breath followed by a breath. One moment followed by another moment and then there was a last moment.

You're much better than fireworks. They're all over in a moment, and you're going to stay for a fortnight. Besides, fireworks are noisy, and they make too much smoke.

It crumbled apart into ash, going from form to formlessness. To everything, it's season. The pine cone grew into being, burned bright, and now it had disappeared. That was natural.

The poetry of history lies in the quasi-miraculous fact that once, on this earth, once, on this familiar spot of ground, walked other men and women, as actual as we are today, thinking their own thoughts, swayed by their own passions, but now all gone, one generation vanishing into another, gone as utterly as we ourselves shall shortly be gone, like ghosts at cockcrow.

I have seen so many lands vanish in my wake, torn down like stage sets. What survives of them? An image as fleeting as a dream: whatever beauties I discovered, I already knew by heart.

Hayallerimizin yeryüzüne ancak bize nanik yap?p a?z?m?za bir parmak bal, a?ulu bal gibi bir ?ey çalacak kadar bir zaman dilimi için indi?ini kesin olarak anlam??t?m.

There is something relentless about the serenity of nature which has a crushing effect on the human mind. The lavish splendour of her phases, which completely ignores human strife, fills the race of men with the sensation of their own ephemeral insignificance and drives them mad.

We are in the interstices. In the intervals. We are that which moves between the spaces. Which conjures up the spaces.

Life is very long, unless it is not.

Tomorrow, and tomorrow, and tomorrow, Creeps in this petty pace from day to day, To the last syllable of recorded time; And all our yesterdays have lighted fools The way to dusty death. Out, out, brief candle!

We aren't the things we collect, acquire, read. We are, for as long as we are here, only love. The things we loved. The people we loved. And these, I think these really do live on." She

We aren't the things we collect, acquire, read. We are, for as long as we are here, only love. The things we loved. The people we loved. And these, I think these really do live on

What a woman says to her ardent lover should be written in wind and running water.

Tedni so neznansko hitro minevali, kakor da bi bil prehod v jesen najpomembnejša naloga.

Hay un gran peligro substancioso en ir a cazar lo insubstancial

The fading light is us, and we are, for a moment so brief (...) beautiful.

Once music ceases to be ephemeral - always disappearing - and becomes instead material... it leaves the condition of traditional music and enters the condition of painting. It becomes a painting, existing as material in space, not immaterial in time.

People are famous for being famous and for nothing else. And good luck to them, because it lasts about a year and then they're nothing again.

How long is a man's life, finally? Is it a thousand days, or only one? One week, or a few centuries? How long does a man's death last? And what do we mean when we say, 'gone forever'?